Inhibited Love
by SensuallyPassionate
Summary: Susie is married yet in love with her childhood friend; dealing with alcoholism and anxiety. Chuckie is hopelessly in love with his childhood friend yet still can't fight the feelings of his girlfriend of seven years, Angelica Pickles. Angelica is engaged in an effort to be taken care but realizes she still loves Chuckie Finister and resents his attraction to Susie Carmichael.
1. Chapter 1

**Introduction**

**Susie**

**Chapter theme song: 'Chandelier' by: Sia**

_1..2..3…Drink_

Can anybody out there hear me? My voice is silent yet I am screaming at the top of my lung for attention. My dress hugs my curves like a cashmere glove as my damp hair clings to my fiery skin from perspiration. The loud sound waves of the blaring music deafen my ear drums as the toxic aroma of stale sex and cheap cologne infiltrate my nostrils. My drink almost spills and I feel my heart almost stop. My brown skin tingles as ghostly hands cascade against my loins. The hem of my red dress becomes raised, my lace undergarments now meeting the lighted room as a humid breeze sweeps against my lips. I open my legs, smiling. The guy looks at me, winks, then looks at my treasure. His fingers strum against my cavern door; rapping at my entrance like a ravenous hound in search of a lowly bone. The brown curls of my hair now have his sultry fingers wrapped within their confines. He leans me in for a passionless kiss and I oblige.

How did I get here?

I watched the chandelier of Angelica's home rumble as the music increased in volume. Small crystals began to reverberate against the bass of the ethnic beat that blared through the cheap speakers Phillip had brought from his friend's cruddy basement lounge. The lights flickered, the ceiling leaning, the floor becoming more unstable as the amount of people grew around midnight. I watched Chuckie from afar, wondering what he was thinking as he slowly nursed his punch. I watched him turn down the advances of several gorgeous women, all of who he could have easily bedded this evening if he was like his best friend. But Chuckie, Charles, was a different breed of man- an upstanding gentleman- which turned to not just be most profound trait, but his undying weakness and vulnerability.

I felt a slender finger enter me, coating itself with the kiss of musk, African soil, and yellow roses. I gasped, clenching his broad shoulders for dear life as I pressed my weight against his. I wrapped a single leg around his waist for balance, meshing my face against space between his shoulder blade and his oval face while never breaking my trance with Charles. I placed one hand around his toned neck and caught sight of my reality. I breathed out lowly in both pleasure and pain.

Charles turned away momentarily to whisper something in Angelica's ear, she giggling before grabbing Harold and entering the sea of people that flooded her foyer. I watched them make a trail towards me and immediately pulled away from Travis. She whispered lowly in my ear, yanking my red bandage dress while my pumps clacked silently against the lanolin floor to the pulse of the music. Travis gave me a small kiss on my cheek, giving me a carnal look that muted all the naughty things he had in store of me later this evening before submerging himself in a growing conga line. I gripped Angelica's hand in fear of being swept into the monstrosity, only to be pulled out into the arms of the devil himself.

His chic, medium-sized purple rectangular glasses sat nicely on the bridge of his nose as his finely toned face displayed freshly groomed facial hair in the art of a thinly bearded goatee. He smiled slightly, those effortlessly white teeth beaming like a lighthouse to guide a lost ship back to shore. I placed my conservatively manicured hands against his white blazer, inadvertently feeling the hardness of his chest and the curves and contours of his stomach through the white linen of his shirt. The finely starched khaki shorts he wore grew stiff as a familiar feeling grazed against my exposed thigh. His masculine left hand bedded my curls softly, his touch tender and angelic to where I felt myself close my eyes. His right hand slinked around my waist, just above my plump backside, as his thumb rested against the curve of my spine. I felt chills, my senses awakening.

He gazed at me for a short time, I doing the same, before taking me by the hand and leading me to an unfamiliar part of the Pickles abode to strangers. I turned around to see if Travis had noticed but he was too busy taking Jell-O shots off a Cuban woman's stomach amongst a hoard of people to notice I had gone missing. I couldn't even close the door properly before his lips attacked mine. I pulled away.

"This is wrong."

"Doesn't have to be." He said cooly, bringing me in for another kiss. "You can divorce him today if you wanted but you choose not to."

"It's not that simple, Chuckie." I moaned, mentally resisting the kiss but physically succumbing to the invading pleasure of his soft, supple lips. "He is my husband."

"But is he your soul mate?"

"…I don't know…"

There was a spell of silence before either one of us spoke again. "You and Angelica didn't work out?"

He shrugged. "She is a sweet girl but still the same ol' Angelica from when we were kids. I know we aren't exactly in the "real world" yet but I doubt she will ever change." He paused. "Plus, she is planning to stay here in Michigan to finish her Bachelor's and I am transferring to The University of Chicago to finish mine and go into medicine."

"Why Chicago?"

He remained silent, answering my question not with words but with the skillful artistry of his tongue. I felt myself stumble backwards, being pinned to a wall as my red bandage dress became a pool of fabric around my waist. My lace panty dropped down to my ankles as I stepped out of them quickly. I was officially out of my mind.

"Why are you waiting for me, Chuckie?"

"I've loved you since I was three years old, Susie. That will never change."

"You made a valentine for me because you were jealous that Timothy McNulty was interested in being my valentine and he was older than you." I giggled softly, not missing a beat of out kiss.

He snickered. "I still loved you. And I was not jealous of that; more so if you would accept his valentine and not be mine."

"But you've had several girlfriends since then, including your best-friend's cousin and my best- friend-enemy, Angelica."

"Tommy is cool with it and to be honest, doesn't really care. Angelica is in lust with Harold anyway. She also told me she didn't mind if you and I dated. She felt that is what we should have done from the start." He breathed, growing silent. "As for the other women, they were not you."

I began to speak but his tongue crashed against mine again, the taste of sultry, sweet champagne dancing against my lips. I don't know when things became complicated but they sure as hell made my life difficult. I was supposed to have it altogether, have things figured out. I was Susie Carmichael; Carmichael's don't stumble or fall. They live wholesome lives, live above standards because we have to, and become exceptional beings because we need to. We have holy marriages of our parents choosing, have three children maximum, stay centered in our heritage and community while not becoming too bogged down in the chaos, while staying in the public eye yet keeping out of the public gossip. So why was it so difficult for me to abide by these rules?

"Susie, you in there?"

_Here comes the shame…_

I pushed Chuckie away quickly. "Yes, darling. I had to use the washroom and didn't want to use the one everyone else was using."

I heard him chuckle lightly over the music. "Such a Carmichael-Jackson. Well hurry up, I'm ready to go and want you to make me a late dinner when we get back so let's wrap this up."

I sighed. "Alright."

"If you were my wife you wouldn't have to await my every beckoning call." His voice had finality laced within its depths as I gazed in his green eyes.

I pulled myself together quickly, fixed my hair and makeup quietly with Chuckie watching. He stayed perched against the wall near the master bathroom silently, watching me. I glanced at him once or twice but quickly turned away. I began to make my way towards the door before spotting an unopened bottle of wine on the previously unnoticed coffee table in the middle of the room. I grabbed the neck, uncorking it with ease before guzzling down almost half of it in record time. I placed it back gently. I began to feel that warmth I needed.

I opened the door and quickly closed it. I met my husband's gaze as I knew he secretly knew of my affair but was too proud of a man to admit it to anyone; not even himself. He forced a smile, brashly kissing me to where it almost hurt. I felt the pain within his kiss, the ache of his heart as the woman he loved slowly drifted further away from him despite his increased efforts. He began taking Viagra to keep his stamina in the bedroom, got back on medication to deal with his bi-polar disorder that almost resulted in a case of domestic violence against us, and was placed back on anti-depression and anxiety pills to stabilize his mood. He did all of that as well as attend couple's therapy with me with Dr. Lyle's as well as his own private therapy session to save our marriage.

I was expected to be a good wife and support my husband, not abandon him like the rest of his family due to his upbringing in foster care and in the system. I was expected to be much more understanding because I was his wife, endure the emotional abuse and physical threats, and create excuses of why he acted the way he did instead of casting judgment with a red pen.

No one bother's to ask how that makes me feel.

I glanced at my wedding ring. It was a constant reminder of who I was supposed to be. I'm a graduate student at The University of Illinois at Chicago taking up Educational Policy to fix the corruption and neo-liberal policy of my hometown. My mother is a world-renowned physician that is currently discovering a cure for the common cold while my father remains the new Johnnie Cochran since going back to law school after he decided to trade in his script writing skills for case briefings. My older sister and brothers were successful in their own right, my older sister a professional contemporary dancer, my older brothers both in the marines and an astrophysicists respectively.

Carmichael's stay ethnically grounded but not too cultural. We don't eat 'soul food' because we have more 'class' and we only date other cultured Blacks who have European sounding names but never outside our race because that would be too much. We don't wear anything with loud colors, baseball caps glorified with popular culture, and never sneakers. Our homes were maintained in pristine condition as our children were exceptionally behaved and not running around like animals. Carmichael's didn't live above the standards, we set them.

They were all in 'happy' marriages and worked out the kinks of their problems with their spouses. They don't have secret rendezvous with childhood friends whenever their husbands or wives have violent outbursts or emotional breakdowns. They don't find solace in expensive red wine and cheap champagne. So why must I deviate from the norm my family has set forth for me since birth? Why must I give into temptation when temptation doesn't exist in my world? Carmichael's don't fumble. We excel.

"Champagne?" I heard a passing waitress ask as she went around the crowded room giving out fireball shots and glasses of bubbly.

I took two, giving one to my husband. He didn't want it so I downed them both.

_1…2…3 Drink_

_When will I learn…_

The drive home was quick and easy. Travis drove because I was a little intoxicated but not so much to where I couldn't remember. Everything just began to blur together. He parked our family car in the circular driveway of his Michigan estate. The family butler, Cortez, greeted us with warm towels and bottled water service. I thanked him before clacking my heels against the cobblestone pathway and up the steps into our 'home'. Travis removed his blazer and undid his buttoned up shirt before gripping me by my wrist to bring me in for another violent kiss. I stilled and kept silent like a good wife, letting him take his frustrations out on me like he normally does.

He slammed me to the floor, yanking up my dress to reveal my lace bra and panty set. I steadied my breathing, rubbing my bruised bottom lip before he took me again. He exposed his chiseled torso and began to unbuckle his pants. I leaned backwards on the cool floor and gave myself a moment to adjust to the change of temperature. He whispered in my ear that he still wanted dinner afterwards and I immediately began to think if I took the steak out this morning and if not, would veal be a suitable substitute to go with garlic mashed potatoes and summer squash.

"Does he kiss you like that?"

I remained silent, earning a forceful thrust that made me yelp out in agony. I felt my eyes glaze over as I envisioned the dark brown complexion meshed against my silky chocolate one grow into a snow-kissed peach white, orange locks that tickled my nose gently, and soft featherlike kisses placed against my shoulder blade.

_I had told him once that I didn't want to go to school for education. My bachelor's was in urban planning and I was working to attain my master's from my alma mater in education policy to reform public schooling for children of color. I wanted to not only give back to my community but revitalize it. But I didn't want to go to school for it. I wanted to volunteer, attend a few rallies, and raise hell every once in a while. I did not want it to consume my life because it would be two things: a) depressing as hell b) it is certainly the Carmichael way. I wanted to break barriers my own way._

_My passion was the arts: singing, dancing, acting- but lately I have taken a liking to contemporary ballet and dance. It kept me level-headed, sane, and me from drinking a little bit more heavily than normal. I mentioned it once over smoothies at the Java Lava and I didn't even think he noticed it because I brushed it off just as quick. I did not forget that I should never underestimate him._

"_You like?"_

_I was rendered speechless but nodded dumbly as I marveled at the largeness of the dance studio he had rented out for me. His internship must have been paying him handsomely because I knew this type of grandeur did not come cheap. I gazed at the freshly waxed cherry wood floors, the wall-to-wall mirrors, and the painted replica of "The Last Supper" on the ceiling of the studio; and then I heard my favorite song to dance to blaring from the speakers of his smartphone. A smile pressed against his lips._

_I removed my denim jacket, inwardly smiling and thankful I decided against wearing jeans today and went with a plain crew neck t-shirt and black yoga pants. I signaled for him to come to me, to stand before me in the semi-lighted arena. His scent of fresh rain and sandalwood cologne infused within me as I placed my arms around his neck. He leaned in to kiss me but I pulled away, spinning gracefully to extend my leg and place my ankle on his shoulder- toes always pointed; transitioning into a hands free cartwheel. _

_A Chinese split turned into a pirouette, au chante, and my rendition to the number I was going to perform for my Julliard audition I was forced to miss because my parents found out about it and thought it be an unwise career choice. I normally would have been nervous to perform in front of people and would need a few minutes to calm my anxiety; but I was not performing in front of just anyone, it was Chuckie. He had watched Kimi and I dance together before out of curiosity- and to use as an excuse to see me on the regular when I was in town- and grew fascinated with my lack of conservation in my dancing. He said that when I dance, I become an entirely different person, and he is right. I become myself. _

_I felt uninhibited and free to be who and what I was._

_I'm going to swing from the Chandelier tonight and not give a damn._

_**I'm holding on only for tonight…**_

_Spinning into his arms I was brought into a deep, passionate kiss. He released my ponytail and allowed my head full of miniature braids to fall against the back of his hands. We slinked towards the floor, my breathing starting to normalize as he laid me down to straddle me. I thumbed the cool, wet metal of his jacket's zipper. I watched him remove it and the damp lime green t-shirt underneath. I palmed his chest, outlined the lines and ripples of his frame. He placed a featherlike kiss upon my shoulder, bringing my shirt over my head slowly. It got caught on my engagement ring and I stopped to pull my shirt down but he kissed me gently to ease me; only to remove the heaviest obstacle between us. It slid near the entranceway and into darkness._

**A/N: I know I been gone for quite some time but I promise I am back-again. Anyone who knows me knows I go through these spells where I disappear and reappear for extended amounts of time. I was re-reading some of my older work and I am trying to see where I can go with them but I got this idea from my Chuckie and Angelica story and I actually like these two together but I am a fan for Chuckie and Angelica too. So expect the unexpected from me as usual. I hope you all liked this introduction. I will make chapter a little longer than normal but not by much **

**Also, this story is based on both personal and real-life situations because I been writing a lot lately and decided incorporate my personal experiences as well as some I have witnessed into my storylines. It's only so much teenage drama a girl can write about. LOL. Anyhoo, I missed you all and until next time kittens.**

**-SP**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chuckie **

**Chapter theme song: 'Love Hangover' (Remake) by: Jazzy**

"_Here is the last box, Chuck!" Tommy yelled from the moving truck, plopping it down on the curb outside my new apartment. I wiped stray sweat from my brows before nodding with a smile, taking a breather on the stoop of the three-story, all brick apartment complex. Chicago's south side was infamous for them back in the late 1800's, early 1900's and, unfortunately due to gentrification and city politics, a substantial amount of them vanished or were tore down. I was lucky enough to grab one with a few classmates who decided it be much cheaper to rent an apartment near campus rather than stay in the dorms. _

_Tommy grudgingly brought the last box to the last step of the stoop. "You know, you aren't paying me enough to be your whipping boy." He chuckled. _

_I rolled my eyes, smirking. "I'm not paying you at all. You're doing this out of the kindness of your heart and because we are best-friends."_

"_Don't forget free food!" Tommy laughed, jokingly hitting my arm. He took a seat next to me. "I'm proud of you, Chuckie. I mean that; I knew you out of all of us would make it big."_

"_Thanks Tommy, but what about you? Your film career is taking off."_

_He sighed, running his hands through his hair. "Nah, it's not. I got a few offers to film for independent films but they either never panned through or were duds at the film festivals. It's hard to make it big in Michigan, Flint Michigan of all places. I think I might move to Los Angeles after I get my degree and try some stuff out there."_

"_You tell your folks about your decision yet?" I whispered, looking out at the brisk, early autumn morning. I didn't care much for cooler months, but fall was an exception. I enjoyed the changing color spectrum, the newfound freshness in the air, the medium temperatures, and the crisp, nostalgic smells of warm cinnamon and apples on every corner. I watched a few dying leaves dance their way to the tip of my boots. _

"_I mentioned it." He spoke softly. "They think I should just give it up altogether and find a 'real' career."_

"_Ouch." I placed a single hand on my friend's back, rubbing him gently to let him know I was here for him whenever he needed me. I knew that as he grew older and went into our respective fields, things would become different. Tommy wasn't lying when he said I out of our gang of friends would be the more 'successful' one. I got accepted into every Ivy League domestic and abroad and was going into a guaranteed, in-demand job market where my life would be set. Tommy was never good in school, always got grades that allowed him a little wiggle room. It left him working minimum wage at the local grocer while finding out his life's conquest. Lillian dropped out her sophomore year to earn a GED because she felt the education system was a "waste of time" and is now currently taking community college classes to me a certified nursing assistant. She was getting her life together and I was proud of her. Phillip was on football scholarship at University of Michigan-Flint and for a while, everyone thought he would go professional until he tore his ACL. Since then, he hasn't been the same. Kimi is doing pretty well. She outgrew her rebellious ways and took up her interests in the arts hard core. She had a few gigs doing contemporary dance for a few underground acts and was looking to go pro. I was proud of my little sister. _

_I felt bad that since academics came so easy to me and it allowed me to experience a vast amount of opportunities my best-friends may not have been susceptible to, it was my duty to stay behind. Aside from my relationship with Angelica, I stayed in Michigan to stay with my friends and family. I went to Flint for two years to take some general education courses but decided that I couldn't stifle my growth for the cushion of others. I talked it over with both Kira and my father and they both wholeheartedly agreed it be best my academic strengths be fully utilized at a more prestigious university that would allow me to concentrate on medicine. Surprisingly, my best-friends supported my decision and have been behind me every step of the way. _

"_Don't worry about it, Tommy. Everything will fall into place the way it's supposed to."_

"_Yeah, I guess you're right, Chuckie. It's just hard to be bombarded with constant criticism and nagging about how my life panned out and where I am going."_

"_Forget the naysayers. They don't understand the plight of a true artist!" I bellowed, becoming a little too theatrical. Tommy laughed at my reference and I was glad I could make him smile and get his mind off it._

"_I was fourteen when I said that." He wiped a tear from his right eye, clutching his stomach in a hearty laugh. "And I was not that damn dramatic!"_

"_You flipped a cashmere scarf and walked off on your heels." We both laughed together, reminiscing of the good ol' days. When days were longer, responsibilities were nonexistent, and nothing else seemed to matter but each other. _

_Tommy patted me on the back, moving to stand and stretch. "Thanks for the laugh Chuckie. I needed it. Now, let's move this last box into your apartment so we can get that breakfast you promised me and watch the game by noon."_

"_Sounds like a plan!" I stood as well, digging through my front pocket to get my loose apartment keys I have yet to get a keychain for as of yet before someone called out my name. Both Tommy and I looked and I could have sworn Tommy swore under his breath; damn near dropping the box in his hand._

"_Charles Finster!? Tommy Pickles?!" The woman said again, this time putting down the small white dog she had in her hand to bum rush us both with full body embraces. _

"_Good to see you too, Mrs. Carmichael." Tommy forced a smile, looking at me with a silent, sadistic laugh. I gave him a look that made his expression worsen much to my personal expense. She gave him a long, overdue hug and then moved to do the same to me._

"_What are you boys doing in Chicago?" she glanced at my building. "Here of all places in our neighborhood of Hyde Park?"_

"_Chuckie goes to the school up the way and I just came to visit for a few days and help him settle in."_

_Mrs. Carmichael beamed with excitement. She clapped her leather gloved hands, tightening the waist belt of her leopard print trench coat. "I always knew you would do spectacular things, Charles. You going to take up medicine, correct?" I nodded. "Marvelous! This is a great school choice and a great neighborhood; very hipster, progressive, chic that you young kids now days enjoy."_

_I thanked her with a smile, my gaze not leaving that of Susie's. She remained at bay, pretending to be deeply entranced in full-blown conversation with her husband, Travis. His jaw was clenched, seemingly irritated and he kept casting side glances my way every so often. _

_She looked damn good in her all black ensemble of denim jeans, long sleeve turtle neck, and leather jacket. Her long, curly brown hair was in a modest French braid down the middle that kissed the middle of her back with ease as her gold hoop earrings accentuated her face. Even when she didn't try, she was stunning._

_Mrs. Carmichael turned around to face both Susie and Travis. "Susie! Travis! Don't be rude, come say hello to Tommy and Chuckie."_

_Susie shook her head vigorously, plastering a small smile across her lightly glossed lips. Her lips were perfect. "I'm still getting over a cold, mother." She waved at both Tommy and I. "Good to see you Tommy, Chuckie."_

_Travis nodded in acknowledgement of me and Tommy's presence and left it at that. Mrs. Carmichael sighed. "I apologize about my daughter and son-in-law's behavior. They were having a small tiff earlier about where to have breakfast this morning. You know, you should come by sometime Chuckie; we live only five blocks north of you. It's no more than a ten minute walk at best."_

"_Fascinating." Tommy replied, chuckling. I lightly kicked him._

_Mrs. Carmichael nodded, happily smiling. "I must go, but here is my business card which has both my cell and office line. Give me a ring and the next time we have family dinner I would like to see your butt at my dinner table." She removed her business card from her exotic leather clutch, giving one to Tommy as well to not be rude._

"_Thank you."_

"_Well, I must go. Fiona over there needs to get her shots after breakfast so I am on a strict schedule. But fabulous to see you both. Don't be strangers!"_

_She gave us both one last hug and turned on her heels to prance down the street, her stilettos clacking ominously. I watched Susie and Travis follow suit, Susie turning around briefly to have her eyes locked with mine. She turned back around just as quickly. _

_Tommy began to make a joke but I cut him off and told him I wasn't in the mood for it; which he brushed off anyway with a hearty laugh. _

I thumbed my cup of coffee, reading over this week's assigned readings before class. I took a well-deserved sip, biting into my dry bagel afterwards. I took a few notes on my laptop and went back to reading again, highlighting a few lines that seemed important. The bell to the coffee shop rang, my eyes instinctually darting to the doorway. I smiled. Angelica.

She looked great…stunning actually. She cut her hair into a cute, wavy bob with the ends dyed a tint of greenish blue. She wore less makeup, which I preferred on my women, and had her face framed with cute black rectangular non-prescription glasses. I watched how her sun dress hugged her curves as her jacket and scarf kept her warm. She was beautiful.

I stood to hug her, she returning the favor in silence. I inhaled her scent of vanilla and fruit scented shampoo, careful not to snag her necklace on the string of my hooded sweat shirt. I pulled away, placing a small kiss on her cheek. "You look great."

She smiled. "Of course I do, but thank you. So do you." She scanned me with a grin. "You look like a true college student. College sweat shirt, jeans, and sneakers. Nice."

I laughed, sitting down with her following my lead. "Hey, as hard as they classes are, laundry has taken a back seat on my to-do list."

"Maybe if you invite me over more often, I could do it for you do it could be one less thing for you to worry about."

I looked at her, she still keeping that sly smirk across her face before grabbing my half-eaten raisin bagel to take a bite. I decided to change subjects. "So I take it you found the place alright? I know this particular coffee shop is hidden on campus from those who don't know about it."

"Yeah, I found it alright. My mom had a few meetings at the hospital back when I was younger so I always came in here to get hot cocoa and cookies when I was little. I knew exactly where you were."

"Good." There was a small spell of silence. It was a tad bit awkward considering Angelica and I broke up a few months ago and just started to recently reconnect. She took our breakup a little hard and cut me out of her life completely. It pained me that the woman I love could just treat me like I was a stranger on the street with ease but I allowed her to heal in her own way as I did mine. Looking in retrospect, we broke up over something petty- I believe it was an argument over who washed dishes last- but it was one petty argument to a long list of many.

Angelica had a tendency to turn anything into a world war and it was emotionally and mentally draining. When we weren't arguing, we were either making love or getting ready to argue. I don't think Angelica knows how to be in a relationship which is why I suggested we take time apart. We never did normal 'couple' things and when we were together it was dull. It didn't start off that way but it somehow transformed into that and I kept asking myself the same question over and over again:

How did we get here?

Although my feelings for Angelica never ebbed, I found myself growing; wanting more from Angelica than what she was willing to give me. I wanted to know more about her than what I already knew- hell what everyone else knew- aside from her favorite sexual position and some personal secrets. I wanted to know her ambitions, her deepest fears, most audacious dreams, and the crypts of her mind that only she and the chosen few dwelled. I wanted to know it all and for some reason or another she kept me at bay. It never led me astray from Angelica but it had me grow impatient in our stagnant relationship.

"So how long are you in Chicago for?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

"A few days." She took another bite. "I am staying a bit longer than anticipated because I am apartment hunting."

That stopped me cold, me looking at her with piqued curiosity. "Come again?"

She shrugged, her eyes locked with mine. "I was thinking about moving here permanently. My mom supports it and my dad is funding it so why not?"

"What about school?"

"I was going to take classes at a community college nearby to get certified as a paralegal and work at one of my dad's friend's law firm downtown starting in late January."

I was speechless. Had she been giving this much more thought than she put on? How long had she been contemplating this move?

"Why…here?"

She giggled. "Why the shock? Is Chicago not big enough for the both of us?"

"I'm just curious. You never gave thought to moving out of Flint before recently so I just wanted to know why here of all places?"

She remained silent, finishing off my bagel. She grabbed a napkin to wipe her mouth. She looked tantalizing, tracing the curves of her peach, rose kissed lips that I remember maiming all too well. "Must you even ask, Finster. You are clearly smart as they come."

I sipped my lukewarm coffee. "I don't know what to say."

"Say nothing then." She scoffed, standing up to leave. I raced to stop her. "I have to go, Chuckie."

"No, I'm sorry, Angelica. I just don't know how to respond to that. You are moving several states away for me and we aren't even together anymore."

"We can be if you stop playing and realize you still love me."

"I never said I didn't love you, Angelica." I whispered lowly. "I never stopped. But things changed and more specifically, you are engaged to Harold Frumpkin!"

She folded her arms over her protruding chest angrily, hiding her engagement ring she thought I didn't catch on first glance. I heard through the grape vine that Harold had proposed to Angelica a few days after I had left at one of his family's cook outs. I also heard she only accepted under the condition that he always take care of her. Everyone knew Harold was undyingly in everlasting love with Angelica Pickles; and maybe at one point, Angelica had genuine feelings for Harold that could have been turned into true love if given the time to develop properly. But with her lingering feelings for me that never truly got out of neither of our systems, it left Harold with the short end of the stick.

But I couldn't talk. While Angelica and I were on break, I found solace in talking to Susie Carmichael- who is VERY much a married woman. It initially started out at strictly platonic and on a friendship level. She would give me advice on what to do to begin to heal from my relationship with Angelica, what to say, if the mild depression I was experiencing was normal, if I should date immediately after or have a grieving period, basically anything. She counseled me, consoled me, and because she was one of the few people that knew Angelica as well as I did, I gravitated towards her for advice more often than none because no one aside from her and her parents could truly understand what I was going through in dating Angelica Charlotte Pickles- and even it's debatable if her parents could at all.

When we weren't talking about my woes with Angelica, we were actually spending time with each other; doing things that Angelica and I should have been doing when we were together. We went out to arcades, the movies, theme parks, even had movie nights at each other's houses to horrible horror movies for fun. When we weren't active, we were in each other's company purely enjoying each other's conversation. It flowed freely and wasn't forced or awkward. It was like talking to Tommy or Lil or Phil- one of my best friends and it was something I never knew I needed in a relationship. I enjoyed that most about my relationship with Susie.

Things took a slight turn for the worst when Susie came over my home around two in the morning on the eve of her birthday. I remember that night like it was yesterday because it was when we had unusual flash floods for the summer in Flint and it was the night Susie and I made love. She was drenched with rain and I immediately let her in and gave her some clothes to change into. She came out of the bathroom with one of my oversized t-shirts with her damp hair in a high bun. She told me after a considerable amount of me holding her in darkness to the smooth sounds of acoustic jazz and softening rain against glass that her husband had another violent episode after refusing to take his medication for several days. He charged at her with a knife, even threatening to kill her and then himself if she didn't love him like she used to anymore.

Her tears strummed against my shirt like liquid metal and all I could do was console her the same way she had with me in my episodes of helplessness with Angelica. One thing led to another and I found myself carrying her to my bedroom to lay her down on my twin sized bed in the kiss of early dawn, turning off the lights.

"But at least I'm not married." She shot back angrily, glaring at me. "Are you still in pursuit of Susie?"

I groaned, rubbing my hands across my face in frustration. "Does it matter? We broke up and you gave me the green light to talk to her romantically."

"Well, that was before I thought you two would actually hit it off, Chuckie."

"So what were you expecting, Angelica?" my voice coming off a little stonier than anticipated. But she was irking me.

"To be honest, Chuckie, I was expecting you both to maybe sleep together but not go further than that. I'm not dumb enough to know that you two have not been intimate but I did not expect you to fall in love with her." Her voice trailed off, cracking slightly. My face softened.

"Angelica…"

"Am I wrong?"

A long spell of silence.

"Angelica, can we talk about this a little later? I have class in a bit and I don't want us to divulge into this conversation unable to finish."

"Sure." She curtly responded, turning to exit the building through the turnstile angrily. I sighed, scurrying to pack up my things to catch up to her. I left a tip on the table and raced out the door. I finally caught up to her as she neared her parked car where her driver awaited her with a smile.

I forcefully shut the door before she could enter; she spinning around angrily to verbally bash me. But I cut her off with a kiss. I could tell she thought about if she should pull away or not but ultimately, succumbed to my advances. I ran my hands through her voluminous hair; she wrapping her arms around my neck to deepen the kiss. My hands traveled down to her waist, cupping her bottom as she meshed against my skin. I heard the driver clear his throat as he opened the car door, only to return to the driver's side and enter.

Angelica was the first one to break our kiss, her eyes laden with lust and uninhibited passion. She grabbed my hand and led me into the pristine vehicle to be met with the supple leather of her spacious backseat. Her tongue traced the entrance of my mouth, begging for access that I happily allowed. My hands roamed her smooth, flawless legs, pulling up her sun dress to expose her milky thighs as her hands pranced up my sweatshirt.

"Driver, roll up the partition please?"

_If there is a cure for this…I don't want it._

_If there is a remedy…I run from it._


	3. Chapter 3

**Angelica **

**Chapter theme song: 'All Of Me' by: John Legend**

I grabbed a loaf of wheat bread and a gallon of skim milk to put into my grocery cart. I huffed at the lack of soy milk available. You would think being in an organic grocery store they would carry soy milk and keep it in stock. Damn hipsters. I rolled my eyes at an elderly woman that impatiently tapped her foot behind me. She was waiting for me to get out of the dairy section and hold up progress in another aisle that wasn't a convenience to her or that ugly faux coat. I violently turned around and dismissed her somewhere near the unnecessary organic juice section and self-serve trail mix bar with a fresh manicure and a sly smile.

I checked my cell-phone again, grinning from ear to ear as I read my text from Chuckie.

_Come over tonight? Dinner, movie, cuddling. –Chuckie F. 5:34pm_

I quickly replied back, careful not to tap too harshly against my touchscreen mobile again. I cracked my screen last time I got too excited and carried away with myself and raging hormones like I was sixteen again. I erased, rewrote, erased, rewrote, erased, and rewrote my text message before hitting send. I quickly made a mental note that it was best to grab some diced pineapple from the fresh fruit stand near the register for the ride home with a naughty smile.

_Can't wait. See you soon loser.- 5:37 pm_

I made my way towards the produce aisle, picking up some dry cereal in aisle five for Harold on the way. He grew quite fond of those cinnamon squares. I hated them actually but he seemed to like the knock off brand compared to the real one. I chuckled, remembering the time I came down to the kitchen for a late night snack to find Harold scarfing down a large bowl of cinnamon squares in nothing but his boxers and banana house slippers. He seemed surprise to find me standing in the doorway, halting in mid-spoonful towards his mouth with a disgusting smile filled with half-chewed cereal. We both laughed and shared a bowl of cereal together before we made passionate love on the kitchen floor- only I got the raisin bran cereal because his fat ass ate all the cinnamon squares.

I immediately felt a familiar ping of guilt rush over me. Harold was a great guy and didn't deserve a woman like me; but I was confused. I mean, sure I had feelings for Harold. I wasn't that selfish, at least I considered myself that way, to not be with a man solely because he had the means to take care of me. As much as I wanted a man to provide for me, I came from a very wealthy family. I could take care of myself. I was in Chicago on my father's dime with a year's rent paid in advance; and Chicago rental prices reside on the higher side than other places. Harold was definitely on his way to living comfortably, but I was not with him because of it.

Harold and I actually had a connection and it was rare I connected with anyone other than myself in the mirror. I, Angelica Pickles, completely confess I am as vain as they come; but Harold actually possessed a gift. He possessed the gift of keeping my attention and that was a feat to do. Harold was once that annoying, chubby boy in middle-school I had do my homework I when I wasn't trying to pay some of the geekier kids increased prices. Over the years, Harold became less annoying and more comfortable to be around. He never truly lost his baby weight but his size suited him and he was rather handsome with facial hair and the deep, husky voice he gained during puberty. He actually became attractive over the years once he learned some fashion sense and color coordinated. He even had a few girlfriends along the way- many of them model and swimmer types.

Harold realized that trying too hard not only drove women away from him, but made him look horribly desperate and came off as being a pure nuisance. Eventually, Harold received the memo and allowed himself to tone down his advances, opportune his newfound deep voice woo the ladies, and began to see the pride and happiness in winning over real friends by being himself. Surprisingly, Harold wasn't a bad guy. He was incredibly intelligent-almost as intelligent as Finster, had a unique, perverted sense of humor, was into adventure, a hopeless romantic, poetic, a writer, interested in biology and family law, and had a passion for children.

As time progressed, I began to allow myself to spend time with Harold outside of group settings to get to know him on a more personal level. He damn near jumped over the moon when I started doing that and it caused me to pull back slightly; but it wasn't for long. After a few months of actually talking to Harold and not just using him for his money or expertise in advanced chemistry, I found that we shared some of the same interests and that he also had ambitions to go into law one day. One thing led to another and I found myself giving him my phone number and having nightly five hour conversations.

We found our bond deepen as we shared the fact that we were often showered with money and expensive gifts rather than time and priceless affection from our parents. Harold's parents were always traveling, often time internationally, and because Harold was in school he was often left behind with nothing but a limitless credit card and a note of the kitchen fridge stamped with a signature and lipstick. My story was not that much different; only difference was that my parents both began to divulge into their own respected affairs as I grew older and decided to divorce towards my senior year of high school.

Harold satisfied me in all three aspects: mentally, emotionally, and physically. He was an excellent lover, our chemistry was impeccable, and the way he stirred my mind and heart was mesmerizing; but it left me with a void I knew not how to fill. I actually think at one point I fell in love with Harold Frumpkin but did not know how to respond to it, let alone understand it, so it caused me to overlook my feelings. The only person I felt remotely similar for was towards Chuckie and it confused me greatly.

I had two great guys, both so different yet so alike, but I knew not which one I needed. I knew I wanted Charles Finster- mainly because our ambiance meshed as well together as Dolce and Gabanna. Aside from Harold, Chuckie was the only other person who not only put up with me and my attitude, but understood me. I was allowed to be myself with Chuckie and found comfort in the fact that there was nothing unfamiliar about our relationship. I've known him since he was wearing training pants and when I was bedwetting from the fear of the dark. There were no secrets or fear that there was something hidden in the depths of our proverbial closets. We knew everything there was to know about one another and that took a weight off our relationship almost instantly.

I know that my love for Chuckie hurts Harold even though he insists it doesn't. Harold actually allowed me a grace period between our engagement and our wedding date to actually sow my oats and get everything out my system. He basically gave me the permission to have an affair with Chuckie up to the date where we would start a life anew. I tried to talk to him, plead with him that I was an honest and faithful woman but Harold knew me better. He allowed me to step out on him and find out if this was not only where I wanted to be, but where I needed to be. I can tell that the nights I come home late smelling like day old cologne hurts him but he finds solace in the fact that I came home to him and him alone.

I just don't want to keep hurting him. I may have undying love for Finster but Frumpkin had a piece of my heart as well and the last thing he needed was to have me string him along.

But I kept asking myself the same question: if I only stayed with Charles and chose not to explore my relationship with Harold as I could have because of the fear of that whole 'getting to know you' phase and the fear that I could now find someone to love _all _of me the way he did?

…All my perfect imperfections…

I grazed my way through the aisles, carefully grabbing all the things on my list I set out to get and then a little extra. I saw Susie Carmichael near the bakery section grabbing what looked like a large birthday cake with her husband, Travis. She was cute I had to admit, donned in denim jeans that made her butt look perfect, a grey turtleneck sweater, hooped earrings and brown boots. Her hair was free flowing and wavy, cascading down to the crease of her back as her makeup stood flawless. My blood boiled just looking at her and just her breathing frustrated me. I could see why Charles gravitated towards her the way he did. She was a damn Nubian goddess!

That was quite alright. I was Danish royalty.

I knew I had no business growing envious of Susie but she stood to be my competition. Even though we both were technically taken, our hearts both longed for Chuckie Finster. I was engaged and she was already married, which made her attraction towards Chuckie both slightly more immoral and illegal. I knew Susie didn't see me as much of a threat-seeing as how I gave her and Chuckie the say so to actually hook up together like a maniac- but I most certainly saw Susie as one.

Aside from her beauty and the obvious attraction between her and Chuckie since they were kids, Susie was equally as intelligent as Chuckie and could converse on subjects I was not well-rehearsed on or didn't care much for that both she and Chuckie enjoyed. She knew things I would never know and could strum Chuckie's intellect just as well as I could his loins. It bothered me.

I watched her thank the baker and walk towards the registers with her husband in tow. He seemed pissed off, as usual, but more so than normal. I heard from my mother that she and Travis were having more marital problems than usual- part of them being from Travis knowing about Susie's growing attraction for Chuckie. Another part was Travis' growing intolerance for his need to self-medicate and attend counseling with Dr. Lyles twice a week in order to keep his adulterous wife happy. I also heard he had tried to hit Susie once before but her brother's swooped in before he had the chance.

At one point I vied for Chuckie's attention by trying to be more like Susie Carmichael. I dressed more conservatively than I normally would, curled my hair for three hours, wore my 'smart people' non-prescription glasses, and studied all night on the social economy of neoliberalism to make myself sound more articulate. Chuckie immediately caught on, finding my façade cute at best. He then proceeded to lecture me on how he loved me for me and there was no need to be anything but myself; leading to us talking about this season's fall fashion, his brain frying homework, watching reruns of Beverly Hillbillies, and making love on my bedroom floor.

I checked my phone again.

_Hey Marilyn *smiley face* I get off work in a half hour. How about we break open a bottle of Moet at your favorite steakhouse for dinner?- Harold F. 5:54pm_

I grinned at my nickname Harold had given me. My favorite movie was 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes' and since finding that out, Harold began calling me Marilyn after the legendary Monroe. According to my fiancée, I was equally as beautiful as well. It made me giggle.

I began to write back but forgot I made plans with Chuckie. What was I supposed to say? Was I supposed to cancel?

"Hey Angelica!" I looked up, seeing Susie wave frantically at me. I faked a smile, waving back. She had a few birthday candles in her hand. "What are you doing here?" she gave me a hug. She smelled good too. Damn Susie.

"I recently moved to Chicago these past few weeks." I replied weakly, watching her emotionless husband hold the cake I saw her with previously like a Grecian statue. He was slightly intimidating.

Her face lit up with pure excitement. "Really!? What brought about that change?" I lied and told her Harold got a new job at a law firm downtown- which wasn't a lie- and we moved because of his new job. She nodded, agreeing with me. "Chicago has some great law firms, especially for family practice."

"You don't say?" My reply was laced with thick sarcasm. She nodded, clearly not catching it not addressing it.

"It also has great nightlife. Maybe you and I can go get into some trouble like we used to when we were fourteen." She laughed.

I smirked in memory. If I recalled correctly, I was always the one in trouble. Susie just bailed me out of it because I didn't want another lecture from my folks. "I was the troublemaker, you were too innocent to do anything except that one time you thought breaking into an abandoned building was smart."

"But at least I did it!" she exclaimed proudly. I shook my head, curious as to who was texting her on the other line of her mobile phone. The screen kept illuminating from unanswered text messages.

"How are you?" I faked like I gave a damn. I really just wanted to get the hell out of there and away from her enchanting and ridiculously delicious smelling perfume.

"Good, just wanted to stop by and get my mother's birthday cake for her birthday dinner this evening. We are doing a more informal dinner at our house next weekend, you should come. Chuckie, Lil, Phil, Dil, and Tommy will all be there. I figured since they will all be coming down to visit Chuckie next weekend why not invite them."

The familiar wave of anger flash flooded me again. "Chuckie will be there?" she happily nodded. I noticed a small crimson hue sweep over her cheeks. It made me even more irritated. "You two hang out often?"

"Yeah, sometimes." She trailed off once she noticed her husband became interested in our conversation. "We just mainly see each other in passing; you know, when I am on my way to school and he is coming from school."

"You guys talk often?"

"Sort of."

"So…are you guys close friends now or something?" I decided to dig a little deeper. It was partially out of curiosity but mainly to see how uncomfortable little Ms. Perfect could get under pressure.

"We always have been friends, Angelica."

"But I mean, to what extent. You and Chuckie never really traveled in the same circles and didn't really communicate much outside of class."

Her brows furrowed, her frustration becoming more apparent. She grew impatient with me beating around the bush at my gestures. "What is your point, Angelica?"

"No point, just curious as to when you began spending more time with Chuckie. I don't remember a time aside from recently when you both spent a good amount of time together." I paused to measure her husband. Travis seemed deeply interested and was now inching closer towards his wife's conversation. "Come to think of it, at my party a few months ago you and Chuckie disappeared off somewhere and I went looking for both of you."

I watched her narrow her eyes at me as her husband clenched her arm, whispering something in her ear. She forced a smile. "We are friends, always have been, always _will _be, Angelica. His move to Chicago has allowed us to spend a little more time together than normal but nothing too out of the ordinary."

"Oh." I dismissed, no longer interested. "I was just curious. He always says that he is making plans to see you yet he always found himself with me so I did not want him to come off as misleading."

The claws were officially out.

"Not a problem, Angelica. I completely understand where there could have been confusion and trust me, when he is not with you he is most certainly around me." She sealed with a greedy smile. "But I have to get going but be sure to tell your _**fiancée**_, Harold, Happy Birthday for me."

My heart dropped. Was that today? It could not have been the sixteenth already could it? I scurried to check my phone and sure enough, it was. Check mate.

"You didn't forget your future husband's birthday, did you?" Susie asked, knowingly pleased. I eyed her vindictively, smiling.

"Of course not." I lied through my teeth, my eyes immediately scanning the area for a cheap last minute cake.

"Good, well see you next week!" she haphazardly waved before turning on her heels to leave while I logged into social media to look on Harold's page. Sure enough, it was his birthday and everyone- even his ex-girlfriend who had a baby while they were together- wished him a happy birthday.

I decided it was best I pretend that I had a surprise dinner for Harold set up months in advance and my plan involved me acting like I didn't know it was his birthday when in fact I did. I called around a few restaurants- many of them booked on a Thursday night of all nights- and finally made reservations for us as one of his favorite sushi restaurants. I decided now was not the best time to go grocery shopping and it was probably best if I actually did something to my hair, put on anything aside from sweat pants and an oversized sweater, and shaved before the evening grew old.

I then remembered I promised Charles I would spend the evening with him. I silently cursed, knowing full well you couldn't have your cake and eat it too.

_I'll be a little late tonight. See you around 1 or 2 am.-6:05pm_

He surprisingly texted me right back.

_Sounds good. No morning classes so I have all day.-Chuckie F., 6:06pm_

Normal people couldn't have their cake and eat it too, but they clearly didn't know who the hell I was.

**A/N: Thank you all for your lovely feedback and continued support for my twisted, dark fantasies. I hope everyone is enjoying the story thus far. Also, check out some of the work from Lantern92. She is a very talented writer that dabbles in noir fiction in the PPG section that may peak the interest of some of you if you are into that type of thing. **

**A big thank you to my supporter from DAY ONE when I was fourteen, Jose. And welcome to my dark fantasyland celrock, loonytoon and crocy98.**

**Until next time.**

**-SP**


	4. Chapter 4

**Susie**

**Chapter theme song: 'Le Kwa Ukwu' by: Iyanya**

I took all the guest's coats and placed them neatly on hangers in the coat room before closing the closet door. I sighed, moving a few stray curls away from my face. My eyes were a little irritated from wearing the cheap mascara I had bought from the drug store this afternoon but it had to do since my go-to mascara was lumpy and dry. Clumps and stringy spider-webs serving as eye lashes were very unattractive.

"Where is the restroom, Susie?" Lillian asked sweetly. I directed down the hall to the left before escaping to the kitchen through the side entrance in the next room over. I found home in the fruit tray my mother had ordered.

I picked up a supple strawberry, biting into a chunk of pineapple next. I closed my eyes, allowing their flavors to make love to my taste buds. It was the only amount of sugar I was allowed to eat for the next three weeks. My mother had insisted I was getting to 'curvy' and that a strict 1,500 calorie diet was in order for a month. I was only allowed to drink water and eat nothing on my plate that was more than a half cupful. Carmichael women don't fully embrace our African bloodline; thus rejecting the curvaceous hips, thighs, and butt that come naturally modern women only pay for.

I took it upon myself to grab a large handful of pineapple, munching happily. "Hungry much?"

His voice startled me. I watched him fully enter the kitchen, smiling as he helped himself to the fruit tray as well. "Thank you for inviting me, Susie."

"No problem, Harold." I smiled, biting into another pineapple. "And you scared me there. I didn't hear you come in." I giggled. He smiled.

"Sorry, did you want to be alone?"

"No, your company is very much needed. Thanks." I smiled again, reaching for a strawberry. He reached for the same one, our fingers touching. I laughed it off. "Go ahead."

"No, it's the last one; please take it. And it's your house, Susie."

"But you are a guest." I countered, choosing a slice of melon instead. I popped it into my mouth greedily. He let out a hearty laugh.

"How are you?" I shrugged, letting him know I was alright and just trying to finish up school. "You look great by the way."

"Really?" I asked in genuine surprise. I was modest about my looks, but I genuinely felt I looked hideous. It was close to that time of the month and around this time my clothes don't fit like they should. So instead of forcing myself in my jeans that would make me feel like a distorted circus performer, I chose a solid black cocktail dress, sheer stockings and simple red flats. I didn't feel like doing my hair today so I wore it in a simple ponytail with a pearled headband and even more simple makeup. "Thanks Harold. I feel like a whale hence the lack of denim or anything of color."

He nodded, catching my jest. "Yeah, Angelica breaks out the all black around this time too and regardless of what I say, feels she is ten times fatter than she is."

The name of that woman made me cringe. I really wanted to give her a piece of my mind the day I saw her at the grocery store. I came over after seeing her on my way back to my car when I decided it was the polite and nice thing to do to come over and say hello. I wasn't expecting her to be so crabby though. Chuckie had told me Angelica might be moving to Chicago but never told me why, when, or if it was completely certain she would be moving here. To be honest, I wasn't surprised to hear that she would be-my guess it being because of Chuckie's acceptance into U of C- but was more so shocked Harold agreed to it.

Her low-down moves and references to my feelings and friendship towards Chuckie were uncalled for and disrespectful-especially in front of my husband. I may have been a lot of things but a cheating, harlot that did her husband dirty was not on my impressive resume unlike hers. Travis and I had a unique relationship that only we truly understood. I know my family and friends were concerned about me being with someone life him. His bipolar disorder was getting out of hand with him having to switch medications that made him hallucinogenic and the therapy he was embarking on touched sensitive issues he never dealt with about his tragic childhood in the foster care system. No one understood him like I did, but I couldn't keep excusing his behavior the way I was.

He and I got into an argument this morning where he got so furious he picked up my laptop and slammed it to the ground because I wouldn't give him back his music player right away. I got so angry that I slapped the hell out him in which he retaliated by throwing me into the wooden doors of our bedroom closet. I had so much adrenaline running through me that I didn't feel a thing, I just saw red and wanted to kill the man. My family came in to break us up and mainly restrain me from charging at him with a steak knife. He antagonized me by laughing at my change in behavior, calling me a dirty, cheating whore, and that I was always going to leave him like everyone else that entered his life.

The police came after the neighbors heard me screaming at the top of my lungs and hollering out profanities but my mother diffused the situation because it wasn't a good look for the Carmichael family. We weren't "ghetto" like the rest of them. Now that things had simmered down, I began to feel the large purple bruise on my upper right shoulder and pain on my lower back. Travis and I haven't spoken to each other all morning since the incident but we were required to act accordingly despite our situation. No one here would even guess that he and I nearly went to war this morning.

It's a Carmichael gift- shield and protect ourselves to avoid judgment and negative attention.

"If it's any conciliation," he continued, "you look beautiful…as always."

"Thank you, Harold." I grinned, enjoying the sincerity within his beautiful green eyes. Harold had grown to be quite the handsome man since we were younger. He never got rid of that lisp but it wasn't as prominent and the baby weight he totted wasn't awkward with ill-fitting clothing like when we were in middle-school. Harold went in a cute, chubby caterpillar before puberty and came out a strikingly handsome, slightly hefty gentleman. His red hair was cut low in small waves of loose curls, his facial hair groomed to perfection in a bearded goatee, as he filled out his starched khaki pants, white buttoned down shirt, and black blazer nicely.

I never looked at Harold before today but he was certainly an attractive man. Not just that, but he was intelligent, whimsical, funny, kind-hearted, and-from the stories I heard from Kimi and Angelica- a passionate romantic inside and outside the bedroom. Angelica had a good man in her face yet was chasing after someone else. I felt sorrier for Harold seeing as he loved that woman to his dying breath; but that was none of my business.

I watched him look at me intently, his emerald green eyes burning their way through mine. He brought his stray cup of punch to his lip, sipping it coolly. He pulled the clear, plastic cup away from his lips; biting his bottom lip lightly with his thick tongue. I cleared my throat.

I felt a small blush creep across my cheeks slightly, unsure why. "Thanks."

There was a momentary spell of silence before Chuckie and Angelica both walked into the kitchen; my mother, Tommy and his friends, and Travis following them.

"The kabobs are coming off the grill now, everyone!" my mother beamed. She loved playing hostess. "Mr. Carmichael is bringing them in from the grill now."

Chuckie came in from behind Harold, embracing me in a light, 'friendly' hug as Angelica did the same with Harold. I smiled up at Chuckie. "Enjoying yourself?"

He nodded. "Absolutely. Tommy, Phil, Dil and I were about to play some touch football with your brothers up front for a bit."

"You hate sports…let alone anything athletic." Angelica laughed out loud, earning a group chuckle.

Chucked playfully frowned. "I'm learning!"

"Don't hurt yourself, Chuckie." I said gently, mentally making a note to get the first-aid kit I had in the upstairs bathroom ready for when he came back limping after trying to 'hang with the fellas'. Last time he thought that was a good idea, he ended up with a sprained wrist after a game of basketball. He lasted fifteen minutes.

"We'll look after him ladies." Tommy chuckled, wrapping his arm around Chuckie's neck. "We won't hurt the little dandelion."

"Screw you, Tommy!" Chuckie laughed. "I didn't hurt myself when Susie and I went to the African festival and did the limbo so I think a little football won't hurt."

My heart dropped, my mother turning her head around abnormally fast. "You went to the African fest, Charles?"

Chuckie mentally scolded himself for slipping up. I wanted to punch him. "Yeah, but it wasn't for long."

I immediately swooped in for damage control. "I went to go thank Ms. Abeola for the flowers and scented oils she sent over from Ghana and to get some shea butter from her booth. Chuckie was nearby and went with me on our way to grab lunch downtown."

My mother remained quiet, looking for holes in my story before dismissing it altogether. "Make sure you throw that African butter out. We don't use that in this house, understand?" I nodded. She smiled.

"Now, let's get this stuff out the kitchen and into the yard shall we people? I know these boys are itching to throw the pigskin around a few rounds before it gets dark."

She set down a bottle of sparkling champagne next to the cheese tray before carrying the tray of sweets on our backyard deck. Without hesitation, I grabbed its cool neck and cranked it open; pouring myself a large glass. Chuckie started to say something but I gave him a look that told him I wasn't in the mood. He decided now wasn't the best time and retreated with his tail between his legs out back with the rest of our guests.

Left in my kitchen was just me, my bottle of champagne, and….Harold. He silently asked for a cupful and I obliged; tossing my glass in the dishwasher behind me to take the bottle of champagne head on myself. I downed half the bottle myself and began to feel that warm feeling encase me.

"_C'mon Susie, you know you are curious."_

"_My mother will kill me if she found out we even thought about going in there."_

_Chuckie laughed heartily, bending over to even wipe a stray tear from his eye. "What are we, four years old again? Come on Susie, you been dying to come here."_

"_But-"_

"_I already purchased the tickets." Chuckie said with a cheap grin. I rolled my eyes, he smirking devilishly knowing he had hooked me. "It would be highly impolite to not go with me considering I purchased your admission."_

"_Chuckie, you know that is playing dirty."_

"_It's not the 'Carmichael Way'," he continued. I scoffed, folding my arms across my chest. "Stay a half hour and I will be satisfied. Deal?"_

_I looked at him incredulously, not believing what was really happening. He wiggled his eyebrows, earning a laugh and a small kiss before I finally gave in; walking with him hand-in-hand as he and I entered Washington Park and dived into this year's annual African Fest._

_I had never been, but always wanted to go. Every year since I was little I would always pass by and see, smell, and taste all the delicious things that happened beyond the colorful clothed gates. I begged my parents for us to go year after year and eventually stopped asking after getting the same response each and every time._

_Carmichael's don't "do" ethnic and "African" cultural things. We are American and celebrate American heritage holidays. _

_Try explaining that logic to a young girl going through development whose skin was always darker than her neighbors yet I was supposed to be the __**same**__. My parents never taught me to self-hate- directly rather- but they didn't exactly encourage me to embrace the roots of my African ancestry either. Instead, they decided to avoid the conversation altogether like the plague and chant this mantra of "We Are One". _

_Growing up, I was taught all the typical 'Black household' things like the truths about slavery, The Black power movement, The Civil Rights Movement, and Jim Crow but it was always the text book version from my parents. My grandparents always got down into the nitty-gritty of it all and I always found myself with a million and one unanswered questions that I would not have answered for another year since we only visited them around the holidays. My parents figured that with their status as upper-middle class, it was only suitable to do away with anything that differentiated us from the other families in the community._

_It didn't take a rocket scientist to notice we were one of the only families of color in the area and I know now that I am an adult why my parents chose such an extreme method of assimilation; but it left me and my siblings with curiosities as to our personal identity and where we truly belonged. We knew we were different from the other families in our communities but to what extent? How rich was the bloodline we were derived from? _

_I fell in love at first sight. The sights. The sounds. The aromas of different spices and cuisines mixed in with burning fragrant oils greeted me as I walked with Charles. Flower petals, dying leaves painted vibrant colors intermingled with confetti swirled in the early autumn wind; the harmonious tunes of African drums, flutes, and exotic string instruments sweeping away with their melody. I honestly had no idea what to expect but I sort-of expected a predominately African-American and African decent crowd- which it was. But I forgot how diverse Chicago was and how such seasonal festivals bring people together from all ethnic and social backgrounds to become submerged in the rich culture of their neighbors._

_People from all walks of life- Asian, Caucasian, Middle-Eastern- walked hand-in-hand with their significant others and/or families and friends to visit the numerous vendor booths, food stations, and activity corners. My eyes lit up with pure excitement as I felt myself morph back into my seven year old self; curious and anxious to visit each and every one to taste, feel, and experience the pleasure of the missing piece to my history. _

_I could sense Chuckie was constantly watching me, smiling to himself proudly that he was able to do this for me. He never said anything, just allowed me to explore, touch, taste, and feel everything around me. One vendor table I visited was selling handmade African jewelry. The bracelets, earrings, and necklaces were beautifully and artistically crafted. Seashells, wooden beads, colorful strands of intricately twirled fabric kissing precious metal attracted me most- me trying on about thirty pieces of jewelry and buying everything. My favorite pair of earrings were the bronze elephant head ones that Charles purchased for me. I got so excited that I ran out of money after buying the accessories on the left end of the table that I forgot there was an entirely other section- let alone entire festival to venture amongst. _

_They didn't have an ATM in the area and many of these festivals never accepted plastic. I began to get upset with myself for getting so damn frantic before Chuckie told me not to worry about it and allow him to take care of me today. I pleaded that he didn't have to and it was nothing for me to go to the bank a few blocks west and return, but he insisted- sealing his persistence with a small kiss on my forehead. I blushed and nodded dumbly before allowing him to buy me the earrings and anything else I wanted._

_I tasted couscous and curry for the first time, ate jerk chicken and fried plantains, drank coconut water and mango tea, and the best part of it all…I didn't use any silverware, napkins, or was forced to use table manners. Charles and I ate sloppily, laughing at the sauce, spices, and mess we made that spilled on our face and clothes while we didn't give a damn. I never had food taste this flavorful and he had never tasted African and Jamaican food before today so it was a learning experience for the both of us._

_We decided it was best we change out of our soiled clothing and found a safe haven in a clothing vendor' booth. It was the best part of my experience at the festival; watching Chuckie look confused at all the brightly colored, printed fabrics and what he called 'Aladdin' shoes as I cackled in unladylike laughter. I finally felt like myself and although I have never been around anything of the sort a day before in my life, being here around these people, this music, eating the food, being amongst the culture…made me feel like I had come home._

_Chuckie decided to keep his jeans but bought a tribal printed dashiki from Tanzania and I traded my entire outfit for a high slit yellow and gold free-flowing Ankara skirt and black tube top. I stepped out the dressing room lowly, a bit nervous to show myself but the expression on Chuckie's face said it all. He was speechless. _

_The wife of the booth's owner walked over to me and spoke something softly in my ear in her native tongue before wrapping my full head of curls in a traditional African head wrap- free of charge. I deserved the presence of some of the jewelry I had purchased and chosen a pan-African colored beaded necklace that draped to my navel and those elephant earrings my heart fell for. _

"_Wow." He breathed, taking my hand to bring me into his warm embrace. He kissed me softly on the lips. "My African Queen."_

_I blushed, turning my face away. His index finger brought my gaze back towards his. "Chuckie…."_

"_I love you Susie."_

_I grew silent, eyes widening in total shock. Did I just hear him correctly? _

_**I love you Susie**_

_His husky voice kept replaying in my mind. Charles Crandall Finster III loved…me?_

_Before I could speak, Chuckie turned away to pay the nice lady and shell out a nice tip before taking my hand and guiding me to a group of dancers on a dance floor in the heart of the festival. He turned me around to wear he stood behind me, rocking his hips against my plump backside. He rested his hands against the heart of my thighs, tracing them upwards to cup my supple breasts as he placed a gentle kiss on my neck. I wrapped my arms around his neck, closing my eyes as I swayed against the music and tingled against my beloved's touch. _

"_Let me take you somewhere." He whispered in my ear, taking my hand for the last time to lead me to the back of the festival near a dark secluded space that was once an African crafts section for the older children earlier that afternoon. I was careful not to snag my boots on any stray cardboard paper or abandoned crayon boxes before Charles crushed his lips against mine. I melted against his touch, snaking my tongue to match his as my manicured hands grazed his scalp. I moaned as our kiss deepened, feeling that familiar sensation course through my loins in uninhibited passion. His hands traced the curve of my spine, finding home against the clasp of my top but not teasing me enough to undo it._

_Instead, he decided to outline his way to my waist, cupping my behind with one hand while his other wrapped around my waist like a rose vine._

_I pulled away. "Chuckie, I can't handle this torture. Please stop." I breathed, lips slightly swollen from our kiss. He remained mute, embracing me for the last time before lifting me in a single swoop to lay me against a soft bed of damp grass._

_I watched the lights from the stream of lanterns above swish gracefully against the evening wind. I felt his hands glide against my thick thighs, his lips molded to mine; trailing soft, butterfly kisses down my collarbone and onto my chest, then each breast tenderly, downward to my taut stomach._

_I closed my eyes, feeling him slide my skirt to the side with ease. I wrapped my legs around his neck, strumming his ears like he was to my womanly core with the pure artistry of his orificial pen._

"_Let me take you somewhere." I heard him repeat._


End file.
